


Preventative Measures

by triste



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-22
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 07:00:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/570492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triste/pseuds/triste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Imagine that, the two of us, all alone together. Whatever shall we do to entertain ourselves?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preventative Measures

Title: Preventative Measures  
Author: Triste  
Fandom: Hetalia  
Pairing: Russia/England  
Rating: PG  
Status: Complete  
Disclaimer: Not mine

~~

The first thing England noticed when he woke up was his hangover. The second thing he noticed was his nakedness. His uniform seemed to have mysteriously disappeared. The coat that was covering him did not belong to him. For starters, it was the wrong colour. It was also much too big. Still, it did look vaguely familiar, but England’s head was too busy pounding to provide any answers. He couldn’t remember anything from the night before. He had no idea how he’d managed to end up unconscious on someone else’s sofa.

Like the coat, the house he’d come to in was definitely not his own.

Carefully, so as not to exacerbate his headache, England moved himself into a sitting position. His vision swam momentarily, making him sway, but then he got his bearings long enough to see the bright side of this situation.

At least he hadn’t woken up naked in someone else’s bed. That would have been horribly awkward.

Vowing never to drink again (funnily enough, he’d made that same vow before more than once, not that he’d ever succeeded in fulfilling it), England got to his feet. He staggered a little, but remained upright.

He needed tea. Desperately. But before that, he needed to find a bathroom.

The third thing England noticed (somewhat belatedly) was the temperature. It was cold. No, he told himself. It was more than cold. It was bloody freezing. Being nude probably played a large part in that, but the room itself was well below anything England was used to.

Shivering, he quickly shrugged into the coat. As he thought, it didn’t fit. It was long and heavy, but it was certainly warm as he buttoned it up. England would have been warmer still if only he had his socks. Until he found them again, he was forced to walk around in his bare feet.

England set off on his search. It was slow going. He came across guest room after guest room, but found nothing resembling a bathroom or a kitchen, or, for that matter, an exit. Pushing that ominous thought aside, England continued onwards until finally he discovered signs of life. The final room at the end of the corridor was half open. England could hear the sounds of a fire crackling away from inside it.

Relieved, he stepped closer. “Hello?” he tried.

“Oh, you’re awake. I was wondering how long you would stay sleeping.”

It was Russia. Russia’s house was the one that he’d woken up in. Even the coat that England was wearing belonged to Russia. England recognised it now. No wonder it had seemed so familiar.

“Um,” England said, his mind going blank. “What am I doing here?”

“You were drinking,” Russia told him cheerfully. “I never knew you had such an intolerance for alcohol. I also never knew you had a tendency to take off all your clothes when inebriated and run around naked. It was very entertaining.”

England drew the coat tighter around himself. “Entertaining?” he echoed, dubious.

“But also rather dangerous. You should be more careful. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to play in the snow, but it does require dressing appropriately for the occasion. You protested rather strongly when I was forced to carry you back indoors.”

Now England was beginning to feel really ill. He couldn’t remember anything about what Russia had just told him, let alone wanting to mess about with snow, but he had done stranger things when drunk.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, fighting down the panic that threatened to take him over. “I didn’t... sign anything last night, did I?” Like a marriage registration form, he almost added, but he kept that thought to himself. He didn’t want to give Russia any ideas.

Russia smiled beatifically. “Not that I recall. Oh, but you did insist on building a snowman in the likeness of America-kun so that you could beat it up. Then you spent the rest of the evening complaining about him.”

At least that was familiar territory. England knew he could usually be counted on to tell anyone who would listen about how horrible and ungrateful America was after the consumption of alcohol (not that he didn’t do enough of that when sober, but booze only ever made things worse).

“I do apologise,” England said stiffly. “It must have been a terrible inconvenience.”

“Not at all,” Russia replied. “Your crying face was very cute. I would like to see those tears again sometime. What does Japan-kun call it? A turn-on? Yes, that’s right. Your tears turn me on.”

England wondered what floor he was on, if he would break any bones should he try to escape by jumping out of the window, and how far he could run without dying from the cold or Russia catching up with him.

“Seeing you wear my coat is also a turn-on,” Russia continued. “Small people in oversized clothing appeal to me. Knowing that you don’t have anything on underneath makes it even more endearing.”

England badly wanted to be rid of Russia’s coat upon hearing that, but since nudity was his only other option, he had no choice but to keep it on. “So,” he said awkwardly, “where did my clothes go?”

“You threw them away. You were shouting something about not needing them anymore. I didn’t understand your determination, but I will admit to being in admiration of it. It’s good that you’re strong willed. You wouldn’t be nearly as fun if you weren’t.”

That was it. England decided he was quitting alcohol for good. “Well, then. I’ve imposed upon you long enough. I suppose I should be leaving.”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” Russia said cheerfully. “A blizzard is due soon. It’s not the kind of weather you can travel in.”

Stranded? With Russia? If that wasn’t enough to make England want to weep, nothing would be, but then he remembered what Russia had said earlier about being turned on by people in distress and decided firmly not to let his emotions get the better of him. Besides, Russia hadn’t done anything untoward. England just had to be positive.

“I see,” he said. “And how long will it last?”

“About a week, I heard.”

England’s optimism was dashed. Despair clamoured to take its place. “A week?”

“I believe so.” Russia chuckled. “Imagine that, the two of us, all alone together. Whatever shall we do to entertain ourselves?”

“We drink,” England said firmly.

To hell with abstaining. There would be no way of getting through the next seven days without alcohol. Blotto, England was capable of surviving anything. Not having any recollection of whatever happened afterwards would only be a bonus.

“Oh my.” Russia regarded him coyly. “Are you sure that’s wise?”

“Bring out the booze! But hide all your pens. You won’t be getting my signature that easily.”

“I’m not sure I follow, but that doesn’t seem to be a terribly preventative measure. After all, why use ink when you can use blood?”

This, England thought, was exactly what made alcohol such a necessity. The stronger it was, the quicker he could start being blissfully oblivious.

 

End.


End file.
